| Sealed with a kiss |
| Words: Curio | |
| Friday, 31 August 2007 | |
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Isle of Skye. A rowing boat bobs in the water, under the watchful shadow of Dunvegan Castle. Rain falls, but apart from that, nothing else stirs. We’re heading out to see the seals. Tis I, Curio, Miss Blue, my best friend, his wife and their one-year old kid, Finlay. All crammed in the little boat. We look on in silence as they sit slumped on the black, wet rocks: half-cats, half-slugs. Great, fantastic, weird creatures, who defy any normal take on the evolutionary process. Strange, flippery, chubby, whiskery-faced oddities and all blessed with the eyes of Marlon Brando. How could anyone possibly batter these sweet things around the bonce for a lipstick or three? All this taking of subcutaneous blubber has put the image of one of the entertainment industry’s biggest promoters into my mind. (I had a bit of a shouting match with her down the telephone the other day - about the state of the Festival and how PR folk have trampled all over the delicate flower that once was the Fringe) Strange. A second image just popped into my frazzled brain. It’s me wielding a baseball bat and bludgeoning her wholesale, till her gooey brains ooze out her ears!! Shiver. I need help! 'Relax, unclench and get back to the seals and the wonderful landscape of Skye,' I tell myself. There is still a Festival going on many miles away out east on the mainland. For now, it is furthest away from my thoughts. For me it is now over. Curiofestival.com is done … At least for 2007! Exeunt. |